With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel

by Amanda Cabot

  It took the jury less than an hour. When they returned to the courtroom, their faces solemn, not one looked at the defendant. That was not a good sign. Jason felt his palms begin to sweat, and when he glanced at Bennett, he saw the man swallow deeply. The smirk was gone. His client was as nervous as he.

  For a moment, the only sounds were the shuffling of feet and an occasional cough. The judge stared at the jury. “Have you reached your verdict?”

  The foreman nodded. “We have, your honor.”

  “And what do you find?”

  The foreman handed a folded piece of paper to the judge. Waiting until the judge opened it, he confirmed the contents. “We find the defendant, Adam Bennett, not guilty.”

  As the words registered, exultation rushed through Jason, brushing aside the shards of doubt that had assailed him. It was over. He’d done it. He’d won his first trial.

  At his side, Bennett cheered. “I knew it!” he cried. “I knew you could do it.”

  Though he frowned at the outburst, the judge declared that Adam Bennett was free and banged his gavel to dismiss the trial. The courtroom erupted into pandemonium as spectators reacted to the decision. The prosecuting attorney’s grim expression left no doubt of his opinion. Jason would visit him later and tell him the truth, that he’d done an outstanding job of presenting his side of the case. But first Jason needed to talk to his client. His former client.

  He turned to the man who’d sat beside him for days, intending to shake his hand, but something in Bennett’s expression stopped him. Gone was the innocent look that he’d seen in those light blue eyes each time they’d met. In its place, Jason saw satisfaction and something else, something he would almost call evil.

  “She deserved it, you know,” Bennett said, not bothering to lower his voice. “She wouldn’t listen to me. The Bible says a wife needs to obey her husband. She wouldn’t, and so I had to kill her.”

  Bile rose in Jason’s throat, and for a moment he thought he might be ill. The pride he’d felt over winning his first criminal case vanished, replaced by the realization that he’d been wrong, horribly wrong. It didn’t matter that he’d been duped, that his client had lied to him. The simple, brutal facts were, Adam Bennett was guilty, and thanks to Jason, he was now a free man.

  “Wait,” Jason said as Bennett headed for the door. Perhaps there was something he could do. Perhaps he could persuade Bennett to give himself up, to accept the sentence he deserved.

  Laughter echoed off the courtroom walls. “You can’t do anything to me. Nobody can.” It was as if the man had read Jason’s mind. “I’m not guilty. The jury said so.”

  And I’m a fool, Jason reflected as he gathered his papers and prepared to leave. It appeared that Mrs. Moran had been right, after all. She’d taken him aside the day he’d announced that he wanted to study the law and had advised not setting his sights so high. He should have been a farmer. He should have spent his days growing things rather than trying to serve justice. Turnips weren’t guilty of anything, and wheat didn’t kill innocent women. But the pride the reverend had warned Jason about had made him believe he was destined for a different life. Look how it had turned out. Instead of preserving justice, he’d defended a criminal and helped a guilty man go free. At least the reverend wasn’t here to witness his son’s shame. If he were, he’d be thankful that Jason had never called him pa.

  “Jason,” one man called as he exited the courthouse. “What do you think?”

  “Did you know?” another demanded.

  Jason brushed them off, not wanting to talk to anyone. He needed to compose his thoughts; he needed to come to grips with what had happened; most of all, he needed to forget that today had happened. He’d been gullible, foolish, stupid. The adjectives bounced through his mind, each stronger than the preceding.

  Normally he enjoyed the five-block walk from the courthouse to his office, but nothing was normal about today. Today was the day that Jason Nordling, the man who thought he was destined to be a prominent trial attorney, set a guilty man free. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. The verse from Proverbs that the reverend had quoted so frequently reverberated in his brain. Jason had been proud that Adam Bennett had chosen him from all the attorneys in Cheyenne. He’d believed the man when he’d said that Jason was the only attorney for him. No wonder! No one else would have been so easily manipulated. Jason Nordling was a fool, an unmitigated fool.

  By the time he reached his office, he wanted nothing more than to disappear through the doorway and never emerge. But as he approached the building, he noticed that the door next to his was open. This must be the new doctor’s first day. Jason had seen workers entering the building as they constructed the interior rooms, and he’d seen the gold lettering that proclaimed it the office of E. M. Harding, MD, but he had not met the man. He might as well do it now. It was only neighborly. Besides, the day couldn’t get any worse.

  “Hey, Doc!” he called out as he walked through the doorway.

  Elizabeth’s breath caught as her heart began to pound. It had finally happened. Her first patient had arrived. This was what she wanted, but oddly, when she’d envisioned this moment, she had believed the first person to seek her services would be a woman. How silly. Men needed treatment as much as women, and there were more men than women in Wyoming. A patient was a patient, and this particular one was very, very welcome.

  Taking a deep breath and forcing herself to walk slowly, as if this weren’t the moment she’d been anticipating all day, Elizabeth entered the waiting room, her eyes making a quick assessment of her caller’s condition.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?” He did not look ill. Far from it. If she had been asked to describe a man in peak health, it would have been this one. At least six feet tall, he was blessed with glossy dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin without the slightest hint of pallor or sallowness, clear brown eyes, broad shoulders, and a face that most women would find exceedingly attractive. His features were perfectly sculpted, and were it not for the square chin, he might be called beautiful rather than handsome. The chin gave him a look of determination, verging on stubbornness.

  Dressed in a suit that appeared to have been tailored for him and an expensive hat held in his hand, he seemed a successful, healthy businessman. Elizabeth could not imagine why he was consulting her. Perhaps he had come on behalf of his wife, yet he exhibited none of the urgency she would have expected of a man with an ailing spouse. As she took a step closer, Elizabeth noticed that his eyes appeared filled with pain, and tiny lines had formed next to his lips. Perhaps the man was suffering from dyspepsia.

  “I’m looking for the doctor.” As if to underscore his words, he glanced at the open door to her office, as if he expected to see someone seated at the desk.

  “I am the doctor,” she said firmly.

  “You?” A frown accompanied the question. “You’re E. M. Harding, MD?”

  Elizabeth tried not to bristle, though the man’s attitude reminded her of her classmates. They’d given her the same incredulous look the first day. When that and their obvious disdain had not discouraged her, they’d resorted to other tactics, including attempting to sabotage her work.

  “Indeed I am Dr. Harding, Elizabeth May Harding.” She would not list her qualifications, for they had been clearly spelled out in the notices she had placed in the Telegraph. “Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”

  He blinked, and Elizabeth knew there was no dust mote in his eye. The blink was an involuntary reaction, caused by his trying to accept the fact that she was not a man. When she’d worked in the hospital wards, some of her male patients had refused to let her treat them. Others had grudgingly agreed, but all had greeted her arrival with incredulity. This man was no different.

  For a second, she thought he would not deign to respond, but then he said, “Jason Nordling.”

  Her neighbor. The handsome, charming man whose presence Charlotte claimed would keep her safe at night
. The man whose defense of Adam Bennett made the front page of the paper each day. He was supposed to be in court, convincing the jury that his client was innocent. The trial might be over, but if that was the case, he certainly didn’t look like a man celebrating a victory.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nordling.” That was an exaggeration, but perhaps if Elizabeth pretended that she hadn’t noticed his discomfort at discovering her identity, this encounter might improve. After all, he was her neighbor, and if there was one lesson Mama had taught her daughters, it was to be polite to neighbors. And, though Elizabeth now believed it unlikely, there was still the possibility he was a patient. “Is this a social call, or do you require my professional services?”

  One eyebrow rose, as if the question amused him. “I assure you, Miss Harding, that I have no need of your professional services today, nor will I ever.”

  He took another step into the waiting room, his gaze moving slowly as he appeared to assess the furnishings. Elizabeth revised her initial impression. Jason Nordling wasn’t simply determined or stubborn; he was arrogant. He might not choose her as his physician, but there was no reason he should deny her the courtesy of addressing her as “Doctor.”

  “Mr. Nordling, my name is Dr. Harding, and I assure you,” she said, throwing his words back at him, “that even the healthiest of men needs a physician occasionally.”

  This time both eyebrows rose, and when he looked at Elizabeth, he gave the impression of looking down that perfectly chiseled nose. “If I needed a doctor, it wouldn’t be you.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to release her anger even as she recognized that part of that anger was directed at herself. It appeared she’d been a fool to believe that Cheyenne was different from New York City, that its citizens would accept her as a doctor, despite her gender. You can leave now. That was what she wanted to say to the man with the supercilious expression, but the pain she’d seen in his eyes stopped her. Her instincts told her there was more to this man than simple prejudice.

  “And the reason you wouldn’t consult me is . . .” Perhaps she was inviting trouble, but Elizabeth wanted to be certain she understood the cause of his disdain. Perhaps he was disturbed by something else and she was nothing more than a convenient target for his frustration.

  Her hopes were dashed when he studied her, his eyes moving slowly from the top of her head to her toes in what seemed an insolent appraisal. “I’m certain you know the reason.” Once again, his voice held a sarcastic note. “It’s the same reason you’ll find it difficult to attract other patients. Dr. Worland may be getting on in years, but he’s . . .”

  As she had, Jason Nordling let his voice trail off, expecting her to complete the sentence. She did. “A man.”

  “Precisely.”

  A wise woman would demand that he leave rather than subject herself to more disdain, and yet she did not. Though she had never been able to convince the other students that she was as qualified as they, Elizabeth couldn’t prevent herself from hoping that this man would be different. Perhaps it was simply because today was her first day of practice, but Elizabeth could not shake the feeling that if she could change Jason Nordling’s mind, it would be an important step in being accepted by the community.

  “Tell me, counselor,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “have you had any experiences with a woman doctor, or are you speaking from hearsay or perhaps blind prejudice?”

  His eyes narrowed, as if he were unaccustomed to being questioned. “I told you. I’m a healthy man. I’ve had little experience with doctors.”

  Elizabeth tried not to sigh. “So it is prejudice.” She tipped her head to look him in the eye. Her next words were designed to provoke a reaction, and she didn’t want to miss it. “I must admit that I’m surprised. I thought that as an attorney you believed that everyone was innocent until proven guilty, yet it seems that you’ve condemned me without any evidence or a trial. Does the principle of presumed innocence apply only to men?”

  Jason Nordling’s reaction was greater than she’d expected. Elizabeth had thought she might see a twinge of shame in his eyes. Instead, he flinched as if she’d struck him but kept his voice steely as he said, “Women have a designated place in society. Just like men, they have their roles, and those roles do not include practicing medicine.”

  Perhaps it was petty of her, wanting to prove him wrong, but Elizabeth didn’t stop. Jason Nordling wasn’t different. Oh, he was more handsome than her classmates, but his attitude was the same. Though Mama had warned her of the dangers of a sharp tongue, Elizabeth took a step closer, her nose twitching as she inhaled the scent of starch and soap that clung to the handsome but bigoted attorney.

  “Do the roles you would consider appropriate for women include those of a wife and mother?” she asked. Had her sisters been here, they would have smiled at the deceptively soft tone Elizabeth used. They’d told her it was as distinctive as a rattlesnake’s warning and that the sting that followed was as dangerous as the snake’s bite.

  “Of course.” Jason Nordling looked at her as if she were slightly addled. Perhaps she was, to believe she could convince him of the error of his opinions.

  “But practicing medicine is not.”

  “That is what I said.”

  He’d taken the bait. Elizabeth nodded, as if she agreed with him. When his eyes widened slightly, she continued. “Then if a child should fall and scrape his knee, his mother would be wrong to cleanse the wound and bandage it.”

  Jason Nordling’s eyes flashed with apparent disgust. “Of course not. That’s what mothers do.”

  Elizabeth gave him her sweetest smile. “If that is true, I don’t understand your logic, counselor. Surely you understand that one aspect of practicing medicine is cleansing and bandaging wounds. You said it was all right for a mother to do that, and yet you distinctly told me that women should not practice medicine.”

  Lines bracketed his mouth as he frowned. “You’re twisting my words.”

  “I don’t believe so. What I believe is that your logic is twisted. Women have always been nurturers and healers. Why shouldn’t they be dignified with the title ‘doctor’? Furthermore, the traditional roles you seem to espouse have no place on the frontier. Women are homesteaders; they defend themselves and their families. Why, Esther Morris was even a justice of the peace. Why shouldn’t women be doctors?”

  The man was angry. The rigid line of his neck and the scowl that marred his handsome face were testimony to that. So was the tone of his voice when he spoke. “It’s one thing to care for a child, but no man would rely on a lady doctor. I hate to disillusion you, Dr. Harding”—Jason Nordling emphasized her title—“but your practice is doomed. My advice to you is to terminate your lease on this building and head back East or wherever it is you came from.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to vent her fury on him, to wipe that arrogant smirk from his face.

  “That, Mr. Nordling, is advice I have no intention of heeding. Furthermore, if I did want legal counsel, I assure you that you’d be the last person I’d consult.”

  The barb hit its target, for his face flushed ever so slightly. “At least we agree on one thing. You’d be the last person I’d want as a client.” Placing his hat back on his head, he turned on his heel and headed toward the door. “Good day, Doctor.”

  2

  Jason tossed his hat onto his desk, then shook his head. There was no point in destroying a perfectly good Stetson simply because he was angry. He retrieved the hat and placed it on the hat rack, frowning at himself. Once again he’d been wrong. When he’d left the courthouse, he hadn’t thought the day could worsen, but it had. The moment he’d set foot inside Dr. Harding’s office, it had gone downhill faster than a runaway stagecoach. He’d expected to spend a few minutes in casual conversation. Instead, he’d been blindsided. Someone should have warned him that his next-door neighbor was a woman. Not just a woman but a beautiful one. Not just a beautifu
l woman but one with a tongue as sharp as a snake’s bite. E. M. Harding, MD, was as different from the eager young man Jason had expected to meet as the Wyoming prairie was from the fertile farmlands that surrounded his childhood home in Michigan. From the moment he’d walked through her door . . .

  Thoughts of doors reminded Jason of his own. Though he doubted he’d have any clients this afternoon, he turned the sign in his front window from “closed” to “open.” No fancy “the doctor is in” signs for him. His was basic, unlike the beautiful doctor’s. Jason frowned again, remembering his first sight of her. If he hadn’t been so distressed by the aftermath of the trial, he might have noticed that the approaching footsteps were those of a woman, but he’d been so caught up in his own misery that he had paid no attention to either the softer steps or the swish of skirts. And so he’d been surprised. Shocked. It wasn’t simply that he hadn’t been expecting a woman; it was that Elizabeth Harding was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

  Even though her light brown hair had been pulled back into a sensible coil, the curled fringe on her forehead softened her face and drew attention to her eyes. When he’d recovered from the initial shock of discovering that E. M. Harding was a woman and had drawn close enough to study her face, Jason had discovered that her eyes were blue, a clear blue that reminded him of Sloan’s Lake on a sunny day. At first those eyes had been warm and welcoming, but then they’d begun to flash with anger, anger that was directed at him.

  He’d done nothing more than speak the truth. It wasn’t simply that men would not accept her. Everyone knew women did not have the constitution to be doctors. How would she amputate a limb? Even the formidable Mrs. Moran couldn’t have done that. Jason frowned. Today of all days, he did not want to think of his father’s housekeeper. He was still frowning when he heard the front door open. Pasting a welcoming smile onto his face, he walked into the waiting room, his smile becoming genuine when he recognized his visitor. If anyone could lift Jason’s mood, it would be Richard Eberhardt.